


The Bright Side of Dark Magic

by fireflavored



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-13
Updated: 2009-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavored/pseuds/fireflavored
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malfoy gets hit by a curse. Or is it a blessing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bright Side of Dark Magic

“Stop it, Malfoy.”

“I can’t.”

“Seriously, uh. Stop that right now. What are you doing?”

“Seriously, Potter…can’t stop. I’m trying. You don’t really––mmmn-––think that I’d choose the middle of a mission to try to get my hands on your arse, do you?”

“Apparently you would. Oh, _fuck_. Please stop.”

“Make me.”

“Damn it, Malfoy. This isn’t funny.”

“No, you idiot. I meant _make_ me. As in _use force_. I can’t stop. I think I got hit with a curse. Merlin, you’re fit.”

“Thanks. Wait, what I am saying? _Petrificus Totalus_!”

Malfoy went instantly rigid and fell to the floor with a painful-sounding thud. For several seconds, Harry remained against the wall trying to get his ragged breathing under control. This was definitely going to be one of those mission reports he was going to have to be creative with.

When he finally felt brave enough to kneel down over his partner and check for damage, he got a glare that told him his apology was going to have to be creative, as well.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t mean to let you fall like that. I was, you know, a little distracted while I was casting.”

Malfoy did not look mollified. If anything, the glare sharpened.

“Okay, well, I guess I should get you to St. Mungo’s. I’ve never seen a spell that does…whatever that was. We’re going to need some help, I think.”

The look in Malfoy’s eyes was now nothing short of murderous rage. Harry considered whether he should cast a _Protego_ on himself, just in case, but decided it was unlikely that even an epic Malfoy tantrum could break through his highly effective _Petrificus_. He hoped.

He kept his eyes averted from Malfoy’s as he gathered him up against his chest in preparation to Apparate. At least, he did until he felt the side of his lingering erection brush up against Malfoy’s. There was a brief flash of surprise in Malfoy’s eyes, but it swiftly returned to fury as Harry released his grip and dropped Malfoy to the concrete floor once more.

“Shit! I’m really sorry, Malfoy!”

Not wanting to risk a replay, Harry reached down under Malfoy’s arms and hauled him up from behind. It wasn’t until he had wrapped his arms fully around his partner that he realized where that put his little problem this time. _Well_ , he reasoned, _at least I can’t see his face this way_. And he spun to the left, pulling Malfoy with him into the void of apparition.

* * *

Harry had never been so happy to see the inside of St. Mungo’s in his life. The glaring, bright lights and acrid smell of cleansing potions finished off the last of his arousal, leaving his head clear enough to deal with the problem at hand.

He had managed to Apparate directly into the private wing reserved for Aurors and a Healer was already approaching them with a cart of potions, her wand drawn.

“What happened, Auror Potter?” she asked, waving her wand over Malfoy and muttering incantations as she went. Harry jerked back as he heard her mumble _Finite Incantatem_ to end the binding spell.

“No!” he snapped, but it was a second too late.

Malfoy found his footing before he could fall again, whirled on Harry, and drove him up against the corridor wall.

“I’m really sorry, Malfoy. I swear I didn’t mean to drop––“

But that was all Harry managed to say before Malfoy’s mouth sealed over his own. Harry opened his lips to explain to the Healer about the curse, but he wasn’t able to speak past the tongue that pressed into his mouth.

“Mmmf,” he said, but the healer seemed to understand him anyway.

“I see,” said the Healer, rustling around on the potions cart. “Auror Malfoy seems to have run afoul of one of those love spell mines we’ve been seeing lately. Ingenious, really, on the part of the Death Eaters. Love can turn to hate with surprising speed. We’ve had several near-deaths in the last month from love spells gone untreated. Auror Malfoy will need to spend the night here, while the counter-curse takes effect. I’ll just get the paperwork…”

The Healer continued to prattle on about the details of admitting Malfoy, but Harry was no longer hearing her. Malfoy’s right hand had worked its way up his chest to the side of his neck, where his surprisingly gentle fingers were toying with the skin behind his ear. The other hand was stroking feather-light up and down his thoroughly renewed erection. He had just registered that the hand had managed to open the button on his trousers, when Malfoy went stiff from head to toe and dropped backwards with a thunk on the linoleum floor.

“Oh, dear,” said the Healer, with a huff. “I thought surely you had a good grip on him.”

Harry watched, dazed, as she levitated Malfoy’s petrified body into a standing position and waved her wand over a lump on the back of his head.

“There we are,” she murmured, glancing up at Harry. “Good as new.”

Harry breathed rapidly at her.

“I’m sure this has been a very tiring evening, Auror Potter,” the Healer said, her tone changing and suddenly bringing to mind Professor McGonagall. “If you will simply sign the forms on the counter, you are free to go.”

“But––“

“There is nothing you can do for him at the moment. Auror Malfoy will receive excellent care, I can assure you. You may retrieve him tomorrow morning at ten.”

“And you’ll be able to reverse the curse? You’re sure?” he pressed.

Both the Healer and Malfoy fixed him with a glare.

“Right. I’ll just go then,” said Harry.

 

* * *

Harry apparated directly to his bathroom and immediately bent over the sink and splashed his face with cold water. He knew he should be back in the office, dutifully writing out his mission report, but there was no way he could risk running into anyone in his current condition. He was still breathing like he’d just sprinted a mile and his trousers, while painfully tight, were having no success concealing the state he was in.

He stared at his dripping reflection in the mirror and willed his heart to stop pounding at twice its normal rate. The image of Malfoy’s frozen expression as the Healer had levitated him away returned to Harry’s mind and spoiled his attempt to calm down. His kiss-slicked mouth still hanging half open, the red flush on his cheeks, his half-lidded eyes glaring. It had been all Harry could manage not to demand that the healer unbind him and let them continue what had been so rudely interrupted.

Malfoy was going to kill him.

He had known for a while that Malfoy was gay. Everyone knew after that nasty article Rita Skeeter had published shortly after Malfoy and Harry were partnered. It had taken Harry a long time to convince Malfoy that it didn’t bother him. What he had never admitted, however, was that it sort of intrigued him.

After a few confusing wank fantasies in which Malfoy’s face had featured prominently, Harry had come to the conclusion that he was––to steal a muggle phrase––bi curious.

He still loved sex with women and took frequent advantage of his hero status to indulge his desires, but he was well past being able to fool himself about his attraction to his partner. If it weren’t for the fact that he would rather quit than be assigned another partner, he would have tested his curiosity out already.

But Malfoy didn’t know any of this. What he did know, was that Harry had allowed him to practically have sex with him in front of a witness. Under the influence of a curse, no less. Yes, he was definitely a dead man.

Harry stumbled into his living room and flooed the after-hours message desk at the Auror office, leaving word of Malfoy’s hospitalization and promising to report in by noon the next day.

Knowing there was no other way he was getting any sleep, he returned to the bathroom and ran himself a scalding bath. He settled into the tub and immediately wrapped both his hands around his cock, one at the base and one at the head, and began rapidly jerking himself off. He applied the strongest grip he could stand, with the goal of coming as quickly as possible. He didn’t last more than about thirty seconds before his back was arching up away from the tub and he was whimpering his partner’s name just loudly enough that it echoed back to him from the tiled walls.

* * *

The following morning at five minutes to ten, Harry was pacing the hallway outside Malfoy’s room, running various excuse scenarios through his head. Unfortunately, they all ended the same way. Harry was about to die. Or worse, lose his partner.

The door swung open at precisely ten and a young mediwizard emerged, blushing furiously and carrying Malfoy’s hospital gown. Over the young man’s shoulder, Harry could see Malfoy facing the far wall and apparently in the process of buttoning up his trousers.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me!” he called over his shoulder, presumably to the flustered mediwizard. He was still chuckling to himself when he turned to find Harry standing in the doorway.

Malfoy stopped laughing abruptly.

“Shouldn’t you be at the office?” he enquired, with an odd pinched sound in his voice. Shit, Harry was definitely going to lose his partner.

“We aren’t due until noon. I wanted to be here in case you needed anything. Seems like you’re being well taken care of, though.” Harry jerked his head in the direction of the retreating mediwizard.

“Yes, well, you know St. Mungo’s. Best service in town.” Malfoy sounded angry now and Harry steeled himself for the fallout from the night before.

“Malfoy––“ he began, but he stopped, still unsure which of his hypothetical scenarios was least likely to send his partner into a rage.

“Yes, Potter?” returned Malfoy, his voice getting tighter still.

“Look, I don’t know where to start,” said Harry, with a sigh.

“Let me, then,” snapped Malfoy. “You were fine with my _orientation_ when it was purely theoretical, but now that you know that I’m attracted to you, you can’t work with me anymore. How am I doing, Potter?”

Harry stood mute and stunned in the doorway. This was not one of the scenarios he had run.

“Fine,” Malfoy said after watching Harry blink at him for a few seconds, “Kingsley will have my transfer request by the end of the day.”

“What?” Harry finally said.

“I _said_ , we’ll get you a nice, straight partner within the week. Problem solved.” Malfoy turned away and bent down to put his shoes on, not waiting for Harry’s response.

“But, I thought that was just the spell,” Harry said, crossing the room and crowding into Malfoy’s space. “Are you saying that you’re really attracted to me? Without the spell?”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed warningly.

“Don’t insult me with false modesty, Potter. _Everyone_ is fucking attracted to you. You seem pretty aware of that most of the time. Especially when it’s some woman you’ve never even met before,” Malfoy sneered.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Harry breathed. Malfoy gave him a confused, but still irate, look. “It’s just, I thought I had taken advantage of you during the spell,” Harry explained. “Or, I thought that’s what you would think. But if you liked it, too––“

Malfoy’s face did a strange morph from a sneer to shock, back to a sneer, and finally settled on total confusion.

“I thought it was pretty obvious I liked it, Potter,” he said, the usual bite conspicuously missing from his tone.

“I thought it was pretty obvious I liked it, too,” Harry said, trying a small smile. “So, does that mean you won’t quit? You can’t leave me. You’re the only one in the whole department I can count on to tell me when I’m being an idiot. The rest of them actually think I know what I’m doing.”

Malfoy finally smiled back.

“No, I won’t quit, Potter. You’d be dead within three hours without me.” The smile faded a bit. “We do need to talk about this, though. I don’t want to worry that you’re getting the wrong idea from every little thing that comes out of my mouth.”

Harry took a step towards him, leaving only a few inches between them.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Malfoy.”

Before Malfoy could open his mouth to argue, Harry had wrapped him in his arms and apparated.

* * *

Harry blinked around confused. He had intended to bring them to his home, but he hadn’t meant for Malfoy’s first tour of his place to start in the bathroom.

“Great,” Malfoy laughed, “I could use a bath.”

Before he could lose track of his hastily devised plan, Harry pressed Malfoy back against the sink and leaned in for a quick kiss. When he wasn’t hexed for his efforts, he pressed in a little deeper, willing Malfoy to open his lips.

After a few tense moments, it happened, and Harry was allowed to slide his tongue back into that lush mouth. Now that Malfoy wasn’t frantic with magically induced lust, Harry was able to take the time to really feel and taste him. Harry had the odd thought that kissing Malfoy was like sucking on a butterscotch. Slick, smooth, hard, buttery, salty, and sweet all at once.

He reluctantly pulled back until he could see Malfoy’s eyes, which slowly opened and fixed on him with an expression Harry had never seen before.

“So, am I getting the wrong idea, Malfoy? Or do I have it right? In which case, I see no reason to talk about it.”

“No, for once, Potter, I would say you have a very good grasp of the situation.”

Harry impulsively slid his hand down from Malfoy’s chest and pressed his palm between his partner’s legs, pleased to find him as hard as Harry was. He curled his hand around the length and gently stroked, watching Malfoy’s eyelashes flutter several times before his eyes fell completely closed.

“I have an even better grasp on it now,” he whispered into Malfoy’s ear, reaching up with his other hand to pet the soft skin of his neck as Malfoy had done to him the night before.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” whispered Malfoy, closing his hand around Harry’s forearm. “Oh fuck, _fuck_. Potter, you have to stop for a second.”

Harry pulled back and watched as Malfoy, eyes still closed, attempted to regulate his breathing. After several long moments, his eyes opened and flashed challengingly at Harry.

“Sorry. That was just getting dangerous for a second. And if this is really going to happen, I would like to at least get a chance to see you without a shirt before this is over.”

Harry yanked his shirt over his head quickly, without bothering to unbutton it, causing the top button to catch and tear off. Malfoy laughed as he watched the button roll across the floor and out into the hallway. His laughter was muffled a second later as Harry yanked his shirt off as well, killing another couple of buttons in the process.

Harry immediately leaned back in to Malfoy, reveling in the novel experience of being able to align every part of his body with another. They were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip, and cock-to-cock. Every tiny movement caused friction between corresponding body parts. He mouthed at Malfoy’s shoulder and felt the other man do the same to him. It was too much. He was shaking and sweating and barely keeping from coming and they hadn’t even taken their trousers off yet.

Malfoy’s fingers wrapped around his chin and pulled his head up for a kiss. It was soft and slow and obviously designed to calm Harry down a bit. It didn’t work. Harry was seized with panic. What if Malfoy was still suffering after effects from the curse? What if a few hours from now he came back to his senses and never wanted to speak to Harry again. What if that happened and he didn’t even have the memory of touching Malfoy the way he had dreamed of doing––if he was left with nothing but the memory of rubbing himself off against the other man’s thigh like a desperate teenager?

Harry yanked his mouth away and leaned back, reaching for the button on Malfoy’s trousers at the same time. He felt the other man’s stomach spasm beneath the touch of his fingers as he worked the button through the hole.

When he finally reached in and wrapped his hand around Malfoy’s cock, it was everything and nothing like he expected. It felt just like he imagined it would in his hand, as it was very like his own. Nearly the same length and weight, though maybe just a touch narrower. What he hadn’t anticipated were the sounds Malfoy was making. Little shaky puffs of air in his ear, tiny groans pushed out through gritted teeth. He hadn’t imagined how erotic it would be to feel Malfoy’s strong hands grip his biceps as if hanging on for life.

He began rutting against Malfoy’s thigh in earnest, no longer caring if he came in his pants like a schoolboy. All he wanted now was to make more of those sounds happen. The louder the better. He released Malfoy for a moment, ironically causing one of the loudest moans thus far, and groped on the edge of the sink for the bottle of hand lotion he’d received in his Christmas basket from work. He pumped some into his hand and returned his grip to Malfoy.

He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath, followed by the clunk of Malfoy’s head falling back against the bathroom mirror.

“So good, Harry,” Malfoy whispered. Then, “Is that the hand lotion from the Christmas basket?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, speeding up his hand experimentally. “How did you know?”

“You just don’t, oh _fuck_ , you just don’t seem the type to buy lilac scented lotion for yourself. “

Harry jumped as fingers brushed against the waistline of his trousers. Malfoy flipped open the button and shoved at his trousers and pants until they got low enough for him to lift his foot and push them to the ground. Harry tried for a moment to work his feet free, but he couldn’t maintain his rhythm on Malfoy’s cock, so he settled for getting just one out.

Moments later his rhythm keeping was tested again, as Malfoy wrapped those gentle fingers around him and stoked from base to tip. At first, he tried to suppress the groans that were building in his chest, but then he remembered how much he enjoyed hearing the sounds that Malfoy made and he gave up and began unashamedly growling against Malfoy’s neck.

The sound seemed to encourage Malfoy, who began letting out a kind of high-pitched whine and tightened his grip on Harry’s cock. Harry did the same and within a few strokes the whine had become a series of loud curses and inarticulate shouts. And then Malfoy was coming.

Time froze as Harry watched Malfoy go rigid for a moment and then begin to violently buck into his now frenzied strokes. Hot, wet liquid covered his hand and spilled over onto Malfoy’s clenching stomach. A final exhausted groan from Malfoy was the last straw. Harry’s stomach clenched, too, as white-hot pleasure shot down his spine and flooded his bloodstream with endorphins. He stared at Malfoy’s open, gasping mouth as he came like he never had in his life.

For many minutes, Harry just clung to Malfoy in order to stay upright, listening to the slowing of their breathing and the dripping sink tap, which they had apparently knocked during their exertions.

He lifted his head to look at Malfoy, unsure whether he had just made the best or worst decision of his life. The face looking back at him was like a mirror. Malfoy looked shocked, exhausted, elated, and worried. Harry frowned.

“Malfoy? Do you think this could be because of the curse?”

Malfoy grinned. “Well, of course it’s because of the curse.”

Harry began to jerk away, his face crumpling with the dawning reality of what he had just done. He’d be lucky if he didn’t wind up in Azkaban. And his partnership with Malfoy was certainly over.

“Where are you going?” Malfoy asked, his smile fading.

“We have to get to work,” Harry said quietly, hopping clumsily back into the other leg of his pants. He stared at the floor nervously. “Are you going to report me for this?”

“Report you?”

“For taking advantage of the spell?”

Now Malfoy was really frowning. “What? You think I’m still under the influence? That’s not what I meant, idiot. I was only saying that without the spell I would never have had the nerve to kiss you, that’s all.”

“So it was real?” Harry asked hopefully, lifting his head.

“Yes, it was real, Pillock. Are you telling me that this whole time you thought I was cursed and you still went ahead with it?”

Harry turned pink and looked back at the floor.

“No. Well, maybe. I wasn’t sure, that’s all.”

When Malfoy said nothing, he looked up again, preparing for rage. Instead, Malfoy was smirking at him, arms crossed over his chest.

“So much for that Gryffindor code of honor, eh?” he said, breaking into giggles.

“Shut it,” Harry mumbled, forcing a little smile.

Malfoy pushed off from the edge of the sink, pulled up his trousers, and reached for Harry, pushing his wild hair back from his eyes.

“Seriously, Harry,” he said. “You know I don’t condone the use of dark magic anymore, but that curse may be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Harry finally smiled again. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”


End file.
